His head came back and he looked at me. His eyes were warm, his face soft and sexy and his hand at my behind moved to the small of my back. He started stroking me lightly there with his fingertips and tingles were sliding across my skin.
“Are you tender?” he went on and I realized what he was asking.
I shook my head.
One of his hands pulled back my hair and wrapped it around his fist, the other hand went from the small of my back, sliding across my side to cup my breast.
When his thumb stroked my nipple I shot to Grade Five.
He kissed me again, deep and lots of tongue then soft, sweet, light, quick kisses then lots of tongue again, the whole time his thumb stroked my nipple and his hand was fisted in my hair.
By the time he stopped kissing me, I was firmly established at Grade Six.
I completely forgot about not seeing him anymore, shrugged off the other side of my robe and threw it over the back of the couch. Then I yanked his t-shirt out of his jeans, he let go of my hair, did an ab curl and I pulled the tee over his head and tossed it aside. My mouth went to his collarbone, down his chest, exploring, watching the muscles contract, fascinated and so turned on I took myself to Grade Seven.
When I made it to his stomach and was sliding lower, using my lips and my tongue, he pulled me up and kissed me again, hot and to the edge of control.
“I want you to ride me,” he murmured against my mouth and just those words shot me to Grade Eight. His eyes looked into mine. “You think you could do that?” he asked.
I bit my lip and nodded. I was pretty sure I could do that, if not I was a quick learner.
His hand went back into my panties, sliding them part the way down my behind and he whispered, lips still against my mouth, “Take off your underwear.”
My heart was beating so hard, I thought he had to be able to feel it. I swung my h*ps and legs up to the side, pulled off my underwear and tossed them to the floor. When I finished, to hide the fact that I felt somewhat embarrassed by what I’d just done, I put my mouth on his and kissed him.
One of his hands was at my ass, the other one between us working at his belt and fly, his mouth and tongue went to my neck, my tingles turned to shivers, the shivers to trembles. I was teetering on the edge of Grade Nine and he wasn’t even inside me yet.
“You sat there, facin’ a drug dealer across the table, totally in control. Like you were made of ice,” Vance whispered against my neck. “I was so f**king proud of you.”
Oh my God.
He did not just say that.
“Vance,” I breathed, my heart racing for a new reason, a different kind of warmth spreading through me.
His fingers curled around my wrist, pulled my hand between us and wrapped it around him. My head shot around and I stared at him. I’d never touched a man like that before, nowhere near that.
“Sit up,” he ordered softly before I could freak out.
He kept my hand where it was, I positioned myself to sit astride him, pulling up my knees on the couch, lifting up my torso and as I did our hands together guiding him, he slid inside me and then gently Vance pulled our hands away.
Then I was up and he had filled me.
It was nice. Grade Nine nice.
“Wow,” I whispered.
His hands came to my h*ps and he coaxed me to move. It didn’t take a lot of coaxing, it came naturally. I moved, found my rhythm, one of Vance’s hands at my waist, one cupping my ass. It was great to be in control. It was unbelievable.
I watched him as I moved. His eyes were locked on mine, that intense, possessive “mine” look in them. If anything, it made me breathe faster, my heart tripping in my chest, the trembles gathering, joining forces, gaining momentum and then shooting between my legs.
“Come closer,” Vance demanded and without hesitation I leaned into him. “Hold on to me,” he ordered and I put my hands on his shoulders and he again looked me in the eyes.
That’s when he bucked, slamming inside me. I moaned. I couldn’t help it, it felt so good. He did it again and again and I learned what he meant by riding him and if I thought it was unbelievable before, I was mistaken, this was unbelievable.
His hand went between us. He touched me at the exact right spot and my h*ps jerked. I moved with his hand and his bucking hips. I bent closer, my chest against his, my lips against his and he kissed me.
I was close, heading toward Grade Ten like a rocket.
“Say my name,” he demanded.
I opened my eyes, looked into his, he slammed into me again, his finger pressing deep and moving.
Grade Ten hit me with an overwhelming force and when it did, against his mouth I moaned his name.
* * * * *
I found there was an annoying side effect to having an orgasm, a side effect that Vance didn’t seem to share.
My body became acquiescent and my mind drifted to ridiculous thoughts like what I’d wear to my birthday party. I never worried about what I was going to wear.
Vance held me for awhile after we finished, me still astride him, him still inside me, my mind inventorying my closet and deciding I needed to go to the mall.
He knifed up so he was seated, me still astride him and I made a little mew because it felt kind of good. I could swear I felt him smile against my neck when he heard the sound.
He disengaged from me gently, pulling me up at the waist. He turned in the seat, set me on my feet in front of him and held me steady, hands at my hips, him still seated, looking up at me and I stared down at him.
God, he was beautiful.
He got up, pulled up his jeans and picked me up, again cradled in his arms. He carried me to bed, deposited me on the end of it and I had just enough wherewithal to crawl towards the pillows and collapse.
Vance got fully undressed in the hall and followed me up, pulling the covers out from beneath me and then over both of us. Then he turned me into his arms, tucking my face in his neck.
“Jules.”
“Mm?” I murmured, my mind had wandered again and I was thinking I might need more underwear and maybe a new pair of ass-kicking boots from the mall.
As well as my party outfit, of course.
“I didn’t use protection.”
At his words, my trip to the mall went out of my head with a “poof” and my body went rock solid. Then I unfroze, pulled back and looked at him.
He was smiling.
Smiling.
I stared at him like he was a lunatic. “What, exactly, is there to smile about?” I yelled. Then visions of Vance teaching a dark haired little boy how to feloniously disable an alarm popped unwanted into my head and I quit yelling and breathed, “Oh my God,” then I repeated it, “oh my God.”